


Assassin's Creed Christmas & New Years OneShots

by CuriosityNox



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Years, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityNox/pseuds/CuriosityNox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe the assassin's didn't all celebrate Christmas. Hell, maybe you don't even! But regardless, tis the season for warm and fuzzy feelings, so step right up folks! While I'll be posting whatever I can come up with, I'm totally taking  requests for these too so don't be afraid to ask! </p><p> </p><p>( Reader x Assassin of choice) </p><p> </p><p>Requests status is CLOSED until next season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, or Happy whatever it is you celebrate!

I'm a little late in deciding to start this but hell, it's gonna get done any ways! I'll be posting whatever comes to mind on my eng, but please! Send me requests, ideas, anything and I'll see what I can do! 

In addition to this! I'm going to start giving art to anyone that happens across a mistake in my writing and gives me the heads up, so keep your eyes peeled! ;)


	2. Someone Shit Christmas In My Cornflakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik's outlook on the Christmas season is rather... dismal, to say the least. So why is it that he still manages to brave the season ever year?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As there isn't nearly enough reader-insert love for Malik, he gets the first shot here!  
> Please enjoy :)

The holiday season was in no way, shape or form something that Malik took any sort of joy in. It brought no warm, fuzzy feelings of happiness, but instead an unending sense of dread. He absolutely loathed the season and silently wished for it to just abruptly end before his sanity did. Truth be told, the man almost preferred Black Friday to the chaos that was Christmas… at least that was over and done with within a couple days, a week at most.

Perhaps it was the mobs of frantic, stressed, angry, sleep-deprived shoppers running about like chickens with their heads cut off; how they flocked and filled every corner of their public gathering places, well surpassing the maximum capacity of every roadside, parking lot and shopping center and all for what? To find that so-called all time ‘perfect’ gift – a thing any anyone in their right mind would know didn’t really exist – then to duke it out with whom ever might have found themselves in possession of said item first. You couldn’t avoid it, it was everywhere! Hell, Malik couldn’t even buy his groceries without leaving the store with a Christmas induced migraine

If it wasn’t the shopping madness, then the obnoxious cacophony of sounds burning their way into his eardrums surely caused this detest. From the screaming and hollering, to car horns, to carolers, to bells and bells and bells and more effing bells. The radio was plagued with an endless flood of Christmas songs played in every variety possible: Rock, Pop, Classic, Country, Reggae, it didn’t matter what station he’d tune into, he could never get away from it. He couldn’t catch a break in between songs, as with every commercial break came the barrage of advertisements rambling on about the deals, sales and discounts leading up to, and following the day itself.

As if these things weren’t enough, he also had to face the gaudiness of everything. Horrid shades of green and red scattered here and there, a combination he never cared for. Rolls upon rolls of tacky wrapping paper and piles of equally tacky bags, both generally paired with a rather unnecessary bow or pile of ribbon. The decorations were no better, and Malik really couldn’t understand the current obsession people had with ugly Christmas sweaters, he really couldn’t.

So why? Why did he put up with a holiday that did nothing but cause him misery? Because of you. You loved the damn holiday so much, that he’d force himself to grin and bear it all for your sake. You loved Christmas and he loved you, so trying to tolerate it was the least he could do. He tried, he really did, but he still couldn’t deny that he’d much rather get away from it all whenever he could.

You knew how he felt about the holidays, knew it drove him completely bat shit crazy and just how hard he tried to put up with it for you. In turn, you tried your best to tone it down for him, tried to make it a little more pleasant. The two of you had come to a mutual compromise and as a result made way for a new holiday tradition for yourselves.

December 24th – Christmas Eve – had become your night to yourselves. This year you’d agreed to spend the night together at your apartment. Together you had gone and quickly gathered up the ingredients needed to make dinner before making your way back to your building. After battling your way through the store aisles and check out lines, then through traffic and your incredibly cheerful neighbors you were finally granted a moment’s peace.

From the doorway, Malik watched as you kicked off your shoes and happily hummed your way through your carefully decorated living space, bags in hand. He paid no mind to the décor, he was too distracted by… other tings. The sweet smell he’d come to know and love had calmed his nerves. The faint hum coming from your being in the kitchen had, without him even realizing it, cause the tension infecting his being to suddenly lift.

“Malik?’ He’d heard your voice ring out, “you coming?”

He shook his head, bringing him back to his senses before removing his own shoes then carrying on to join you with the bags he’d carried up.

“Take your coat off, hon,” You requested, taking the bags from his single hand.

“I had planned to.” He stated, pulling the left side off of his shoulder, then proceeding to attempt to shake his right hand free of its sleeve. Eventually you’d taken the end of the sleeve and removed the coat from the man.

“It’s alright to ask for help you know.”

“So you have told me. Numerous times.”

“And so I’ll say it again,” you smiled, giving him a light smack on the ass before going and hanging his coat by yours, laughing at his startled yelp on the way.

Upon your return you happily began your dinner preparations as Malik went about putting away what food you wouldn’t need. You had insisted on roasting a chicken, and while he had tried to argue, he eventually gave in due to his desire to leave the human infested store. When he could, he’d kindly lend you a hand, but in the end you’d done the majority of the work. It frustrated him that he was unable to help more than his missing limb allowed, as it did for many things.

“You’re giving yourself worry lines, you know.” You weren’t even facing him, so how on earth did you know he was scowling? Had you really come to know him so well?

“And what difference would that make?”

“Well I suppose it wouldn’t really, but I think I like your face better when it doesn’t look like some one shit in your Cornflakes. Oh! That might make a good New Years resolution for you! Look less like some one shit in your Cornflakes. Hand me a pot for the potatoes, would you?”

“I don’t look like some one has shit in my Cornflakes.” He argued, rummaging through your pots and pans cupboard.

“It’s okay Malik, I still like you any ways.”

Once the clattering and clanging of pots and pans was over and done with, and your kitchen was in reasonable shape with dinner well on its way, the two of you finally made your retreat to the living room to relax. However, much to Malik’s dismay, his relaxation was cut short well before it’d even fully set in. It took no time for him to notice the rather unwanted sound of Jingle-Bell Rock coming from some neighbouring tenant. Having also heard it, you wasted no time preventing the bomb that was Malik from going off. Throwing yourself from your couch, you hustled your ass towards the door.

“[Name]?” He called after you, clearly confused, “What are you doing now?”

“C’mon, come get your coat on.”

“What? Why?”

“Just come on”

God, you were impulsive sometimes, but Malik had learned that no amount of arguing would fix that, and so he obliged; letting you drag him off through the apartment building to who knows where. After several flights of stairs, you’d pushed open the door to leading out to the rooftop.

“What are we doing up here?”

You simply shushed him, taking his hand and leading him to the edge before dropping down onto your butt and patting the spot next to you. “Sit with me.”

And again, he obliged.

Below you the city still buzzed with God forsaken Christmas joy, but oddly enough it didn’t seem as stressful any more. The sounds were now a low hum and the only real sign of Christmas decorations were the odd bits of Christmas lights mixed in here and there with the lights of the city itself. It was almost peaceful. Almost. But he would never admit it.

You hummed lightly, “This a bit better?” you asked, scooching in closer to rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“Yes. Perhaps.”

“Hmm…” You gave his shoulder s light peck, “and how might we make that a definite yes?”

He chuckled lightly, letting his arm work its way around your waist. “I thought you were the creative one, surely you can come up with something on your own, can’t you?”

“Aw c’mon, you’re not even going to give me an idea?”

There wasn’t another thing he needed. You had hardly done anything yet he could already feel the stress leaving him. Malik placed a light peck in your hair.

“There’s nothing else you need to do. I will probably always hate the Christmas season, but these moments…you seem to make it worth it in the end.”


	3. Regarding requests and updates

Hello all!   
I'm here on behalf of my computer because he is an asshole. I am currently unable to actually get on the thing (which has lead to the use of my phone for this - so help me autocorrect, behave). That said, while I have every intention of completing the requests I've received, and posting the other two shorts I have completed, I am likely to be a little delayed. Thank you so much for your requests, your support, and (hopefully) your understanding on the matter.

All the best,  
Nox.

P.S. If anyone's got half a clue when it comes to MacBooks and could help me beat mine into submission I would be eternally grateful, and would likely refer to you as my best internet friend for the rest of my life.


	4. Significant Greenery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tis the season, have a Connor Christmas fic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Holy shit I haven't posted in a long time, I can't even begin to apologize!
> 
> I actually had this written up around Christmas last year, but my computer crashed before I could get the bloody thing posted. Once I'd finally gotten my computer up and running again, it didn't exactly seem like the most appropriate time to be posting Christmas stories... I don't even think I could have pulled the Christmas in July thing. Any who.
> 
> That all said this may not be completely historically accurate as I'm not sure on when exactly Christmas trees were widespread throughout the North American colonies. I did do a little bit of looking into it, but I still can't say for sure. There's a damn good chance that the Homestead residences wouldn't have a clue as to what the hell a Christmas tree is, but ah what the hell. Tis the season to cram Christmas into every single thing, right? Right. It's still November. 
> 
> I'm pretty sure I also have a fic for Ezio started somewhere (although it likely needs a good deal of touching up) and I totally owe some lovely readers a Clay and Kidd fic here...
> 
> Another huge thanks to @KenwayTheAnarchist who took the time to edit this when I'd written it a year ago because she's awesome.
> 
> Comments and feed back are always more than welcome! They're huge encouragement, and if nothing else, they'll help me improve my writing skills and hopefully help me get a little bit of my creative drive back...which has like... thrown itself off a cliff these days.
> 
> Another thing, just because I'm curious, do you guys prefer translations at the top of bottom of a fic?
> 
> Okay, that's all! I've taken up enough of your time! Take care, and happy reading!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Achilles, please?" The sounds of your begging and whining echoed throughout the halls of the homestead Manor.

"For the last time [Name], no," The elderly man– already fed up with your helpless pleading– had quickly snapped in return, "now stop that damned whining, it's incredibly unbecoming of you and is greatly beginning to wear on my nerves."

"But Achilles! It's just not the same without it!"

"I don't care; it'll do nothing but make a mess and have the house reeking of pine sap for weeks."

"So what if it does? I'm the one that does all of the cleaning around here, and the pine sap smells better than musty old house and grouchy old man! Besides, we're practically in the middle of the woods, everything smells like pine sap."

"I said no, [Name]. Now leave me be."

In defeat you'd let out a long, exaggerated groan. Crusty old fart.

This argument had been going on for what must have been weeks, around the time of the first snowfall of the season. Watching the fluffy white flakes as they'd danced their way down from the heavy clouds above had gotten you more than excited. It was your first Christmas at the homestead and in truth, your first real Christmas in a long time. It was because of that, that your mind was set. You damn well wanted a Christmas tree. You were nowhere near giving up that hope just yet, but with every passing day the chances you had at victory had significantly decreased.

"Why not, Achilles? Not even a small one? What harm would it do?" You continued to beg.

"Child, why are you so obsessed with the idea of keeping a dying tree in my home?"

"For atmosphere! Why are you so set against it?!"

"If you're so adamant about decorating a dead tree with popped-corn and cranberries you can do it outside, but you're not bringing the damned thing into my house."

"But it's not the same!"

"Then tell me - even if I did allow it – how would you get a tree inside? Did you expect to ask Terry and Godfrey to take time out of their busy day? Or one of the other residents Or perhaps you'd planned to bother Connor when he returns? Or were you just planning to go cut down a tree and drag it home yourself?"

"Maybe I was!"

"And what were you planning to do with the tree afterwards? Leave it for Connor to tend to? Trying to work the boy to death are we?"

"I wasn't– you're hardly one to talk about working him to death!"

"Who are you working to death?" A third voice had cut in.

"Oh!" Startled, you'd jumped before turning around to see the man standing with his arms crossed in the doorway, "Connor! Welcome back!"

He gave you a slight nod, "Thank you."

His face and ears were quite red from the cold, and you'd found it safe to assume that he was likely both tired and hungry. The last thing he needed was to hear you bicker with the old man (something he did enough of himself on his own time), especially over a tree. Luck was on Achilles' side again, as he left the room with yet another victory after stating a simple "hello Connor." Sighing, you slumped your shoulders in defeat.

"You must be starving," you stated, the disappointment in your eyes quickly shifting to a more nurturing look, "I started a pot of stew earlier, it should be just about done by now. Why don't you come warm up in the kitchen?"

"Go ahead and I will meet you there in a moment. My coat needs to be cleaned."

"Yes, I'd imagine you do too. Just give it to me and I'll wash it. I'll put on a pot of water for you to wash up with while you eat your stew, how does that sound?"

"It would be much appreciated, thank you [Name]."

"You're most welcome."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Already well into his second bowl of stew, Connor continued to happily shovel in spoonful after spoonful in a content silence. Your place was by the hearth readying the pot of water you'd promised him.

"[Name]?"

"Hm? What, want more stew?" you peeked over your shoulder at him.

"Yes please, but no, that was not what I had intended to ask you."

"Oh?" You carefully took the bowl from in front of him then proceeded to ladle more of the hot liquid into it, "well what is it then?"

"What were you and the old man arguing about earlier?"

"Oh... Just something silly, nothing you need to worry about."

"If you are sure."

"Well..." After a good few minutes you'd managed to pour your heart and soul into a detailed explanation regarding that of your Christmas tree dilemma.

"A...'Christmas tree'?" He frowned in confusion, signaling you to elaborate.

"Yes, a Christmas tree."

"I am not so sure I understand."

"How so?"

"What is a 'Christmas tree'?" His question pushed you into yet another detailed explanation as to what exactly a Christmas tree was and why it was so damn important. He still didn't understand it– a point he'd made clear– but then again, he didn't understand a lot of the things done by the colonists, so this not making sense hardly bothered him. But if it was really something of great significance, then it was something he might as well ask some of the other homestead residents about in order to gain a better understanding on the topic.

The rest of the evening had gone by in relative peace, but having been up since the crack of dawn and still bearing slight resentment for Achilles' refusal over the tree, you had decided to head to bed early.

Come morning, you had crawled out of bed a good deal earlier than usual. After washing up, then dumping your washing basin and chamber pot out the window, you sluggishly made your way back to the kitchen hoping to get some food into Connor before he rushed out the door. Despite your early rising, you'd discovered that the man had already up and left before you'd even finished scraping the sleep from your eyes. How like him to have just gotten home and still be up before anyone else; you were fairly certain it was to see if anyone was in need of his help.

There hadn't been any sign of the man until around dinner, at which point, he'd inhale several servings of whatever you'd prepared, before running off again after sending a quick thank-you in your direction. Once or twice you'd heard him arguing with Achilles when you'd made your way to bed, but you weren't able to hear the actual conversations. This pattern went on for several days. Truth be told, he was beginning to have you worried. On one particular evening you'd managed to pull him aside to see how he was, but he'd insisted everything was just fine and then had gone and locked himself in his room. Despite him being home, it was like he wasn't there at all; this almost felt worse than when he wasn't there at all.

Your pestering of Achilles had remained a habit in the few days Connor had been home, and as he was hardly indoors, you felt no guilt when it came to bothering the man. However, he remained solid in his disapproval, and you were seriously starting to lose hope. Eventually you had stopped bothering him all together and simply resorted to sulking. You had half a mind to just go find a nice looking tree branch and keep it in a pot in your room; it was probably the closest thing you were going to get to a Christmas tree.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Connor still didn't quite understand the concept of keeping a dead tree indoors and could quite honestly see why Achilles might not want one in the house in the first place, but seeing the excitement you had shown on the topic had, in some way, inspired him.

This wasn't his holiday, he couldn't care any less whether or not there was a tree in the house or not – he hardly spent any time in the house so it really wouldn't make a difference to him – but it clearly meant something to you, so he'd taken that into account. He had taken it upon himself to try coming to some conclusion as to why Achilles didn't want the tree, but had come up with no results. Regardless, he'd tried to argue for your cause, though he wasn't really sure why.

Finally, after several days the old man had given in and said that if he really wanted to get a damn 'Christmas tree' to go ahead, so long as it meant he didn't have to hear about it any longer. Just how long had you been asking about this? The only problem was that Achilles had been little to no help regarding it and insisted that if he wanted it, he had to do with work himself.

So off Connor went, failing to inform you of course. For several days he'd wandered about the homestead questioning the residents about these 'Christmas trees' and how he was supposed to go about selecting and dealing with one. It was a seemingly silly task and he'd found himself getting frustrated on several occasions, but he stayed persistent.

"Hello, Connor!" He'd heard Norris call out him one afternoon.

"Norris." He'd regarded the man.

"I hear that you have been asking around about the...Arbre de Noel – the Christmas tree?"

"I have. "

"Oh? What for?"

"No reason."

"Is it for [Name]?"

"I did not say that."

"Ah! Il est! Il est!! But how come?"*

Connor sighed, "[Name] wishes to have one of these 'Christmas trees' and I have only just convinced the old man to consent to it, but I am unsure how to go about this..."

"Je, le vous. Does she know?"**

"Not yet."

"Ah! So it's a surprise?"

"I suppose."

"Well tell me if there is anything I can do to help! You helped me with Myriam many times, so it is the least I could do!"

"I will, thank you."

Many of the other residents had also insisted on helping. Realizing he was very quickly running out of time, he did something he normally wouldn't have. Despite him not wanting to waste the time of the residents, he'd found it in his best interest to turn to the community for help.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Given the past several days, you hadn't expected Connor to be in the kitchen when you'd made your way down early in the morning.

"Good morning, [Name]."

"Connor! Good morning," you said, smiling at the man as you readied a pot for porridge, "it's nice to finally see you one of these mornings! I've hardly had you to myself the past few days."

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize," After filling the kettle, you placed over the stove for your morning tea. "Are you staying home today?"

"No. I have something I must attend to."

"Busy as usual."

"Actually..." he paused, "I was wondering if you would assist me with something..."

"Yes, of course. What do you need?"

"Meet me at the docks with some parchment and something to write with when you are finished here, I will explain then. "

"What? Why?" You questioned as he made his way from the kitchen.

"I said I will explain when you get there."

"If you say so..." And with that, he left.

It was really no problem for you to help your friend when he asked, but his request still seemed a little strange to you. What the hell did he need from you with some parchment and a writing utensil that he couldn't accomplish on his own?

Once your morning chores were completed, you made your way down to the docks as you'd agreed. The crisp winter's air stung your ears and nose as you trekked down the snow covered path towards the cove. Of course, you'd made the effort of bundling up before stepping outside, and you'd tried your best to stay in the areas that had already been worn down, but you still couldn't exactly consider your walk pleasant. Damned snow. Damned cold. Damned winter only looking nice from inside the Manor.

It was already well past noon when you had met up with Connor again, which you profusely apologized for upon seeing him.

"That took you much longer than I had expected," he'd stated.

"Yes. I went to check on the horses before I came down, and one had gotten a hold of a blanket and tore it all to bits – silly beast, I swear he thinks he's a dog some days – anyhow, I had to clean that up before coming down."

"Did you bring what I asked?"

"Yes of course. Though won't the ink freeze?"

"Let us hope not."

"So what did you need?"

Before answering, he looked over towards Mr. Faulkner, then looked back and simply stated, "He would like you to do a detailed drawing of the Aquila."

...What? Your brow creased, "Sorry... Is this a joke?"

"[Name], I do not jest."

"You're not serious..."

"I am."

"Why in the hell would he want me to do that? He already looks at the damn thing all day every day–"

"Her."

"What?"

"He looks at her every day."

"What difference does that make!?"

"The boat is a she, not a thing."

"That wasn't my point."

"Regardless."

"Regardless my ass! You know that I can't draw to save my life, right?"

After many attempts to make sense of the situation (and if at all possible, get out of drawing the damn boat), you'd ended up sitting next to good ol' Pegleg with a crate to serve as a desk in front of you for several hours trying to draw the bloody thing. Futile attempt after futile attempt had you beginning to grow incredibly tired of your ridiculous task.

"Now that's a lovely drawing of a duck," Pegleg had chirped, observing your progress, "but what the hell's that stickin' out of his arse?"

"It's a boat."

"Looks a bit thin to be a boat, an' what the hell would a boat be doin' lodged into a duck's arse?"

"No– no it's not a duck at all, the duck IS the boat!"

"Where in the hell 'ave you seen a boat shaped like a duck?"

"Uhg!" Having finally reached your breaking point, you quickly pushed yourself up, snatching the drawing off of the crate before marching your way over to Faulkner. "Mr. Faulkner?" You'd half-shouted.

"[Name]! What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry, but this is the best I can do!" you slammed the drawing down onto the table in front of him. 

"I was wondering what the hell you were doing over there with Pegleg," he picked the drawing up, giving it a once over, "..Well this is...a lovely drawing of a duck, dear... but what am I supposed to do with it?"

"I– No, it's supposed to be the Aquila, but that's the best I can do, and to be quite honest I'm not exactly sure why on earth you'd want me to draw it in the first place when you see the damn thing every day."

"See her every day. Look, I appreciate the gesture [Name], but I never asked you to draw the Aquila."

"What– but Connor said– where the hell is Connor now anyways?"

"He made his way back up to the house hours ago."

"..."

Without another word you'd turned and booked it up the pathway to the house in what could be considered very close to a blind rage. You had practically flown up the back steps and into the door. It was a miracle you hadn't collided with the door on your way in, or when you'd slammed it shut so hard the house rattled in protest.

"CONNOR," you hollered, ready to damn well throttle the man, "Where the HELL are you!?"

Your hunt had only gotten you as far as the doorway leading from the kitchen to the dining room. At that moment, every bit of bloodlust in you completely vanished. In the far corner near the windows stood the most magnificent Christmas tree you'd ever seen. A thin string of popped-corn coiled its way around the large evergreen, pleasantly drooping from each limb to the next. Bits of dried fruit hung here and there, and little white candles were placed on every few bows, twinkling away in the dimming light of the room. The fists you'd held clenched, without realizing it, had fell open before making their way to cover your mouth which had followed suit.

"My word..." you gasped, staring at the tree in wide-eyed wonder, "but I thought... Achilles, he– "

"It would seem that Connor was quite insistent on bringing this thing in too, likely for your sake," Achilles had made his way to your side, "best go and catch up with him before he makes his way too far down the path."

"Where is he?"

"He stepped out just as you came in, I believe he was heading back to retrieve you."

Mind still swimming, you ran towards the door before stopping and running back to practically tackle the old man in order to give him the biggest bear hug you could, "Thank you, Achilles!"

Somehow, he'd managed to keep his footing despite the loud grunt he'd given upon contact, "Don't thank me dear, thank him."

"I will!" You'd insisted before taking off again.

It wasn't until about halfway back to the docks that you'd finally seen your giant of a friend a little up ahead, naturally, you called out to him.

"Connor!"

The second he'd turned towards the sound of your voice he'd been forced to catch you. Without hesitation, you'd thrown yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck before the two of you collided with the snow bank.

"[Name]?!"

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You grinned, hardly realizing you were now on top of the man, "Thank you so much!"

"You have already seen it?"

"I went back to give you hell for leaving me down there to freeze my arse off slaving over a drawing of a damn boat that Faulkner didn't even want, but I forgive you now!"

"You are pleased then?" Honestly, he felt a little disappointed that he hadn't been there to see you discover the tree, but still.

"Yes! Yes, oh it's wonderful Connor! It's absolutely beautiful! Just stunning! Positively stellar! How on earth did you manage to accomplish that?!"

"With much help from the residents. I could not have done anything without them."

"I can't believe you went to all this trouble!"

"It seemed important."

"It was! It is! Oh, you have no idea! Connor, thank you so much!" To show your appreciation, you planted a firm peck on his cheek, causing him to glow a deep red from ear to ear.

"'Merry Christmas' is what you say, is it not?"

"Merry Christmas it is. Merry Christmas, indeed."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Translations:

* "It is! It is!"

** "Oh, I see"


End file.
